The Idiot Box

I have spent the last 3 + hours re confirming to myself why I don’t and haven’t watched tv in close to 5 years.


When the no tv thing started, it was a matter of finances more than anything else.

Money was tight and changes had to be made.

The first change was getting rid of satellite TV.

The kids were not happy….at all.

But over time, we all just got used to not having the box on and moved forward with our lives without scheduling it around various shows.

The following Christmas, we got a new flat screen, a Wii game system and got an account for Netflix.


And that has been our version of TV ever since.

It still is not the center of entertainment in the house, but the kids have found various shows they like to watch.

Currently, my teenage daughter is engulfed in the show,

“Pretty Little Liars”

It is basically….how do I put it nicely….


That’s about as nicely as I can put it.

It has characters with names like

Blah, blah,blah

Ohhh the long haired bad boy is named


He’s so dark and mysterious.

They live in a town called Rosewood.

I’m pretty sure the zip code is 90210.

They are all rich and cool and Hollywood good looking and have “real life problems” like

-one girl is sleeping with her teacher….but she is finding out that he may be married to someone in Italy….and he is dating one of her friends Mom.

-one girl was supposedly murdered and her friend is being framed my someone who sends the girls letters under the moniker


-there is a blind girl who wears a flash drive around her neck that is also a jeweled owl. She uses a cane.

I’m pretty sure she isn’t blind…..and that the flash drive is a phaser…..and the cane is really a light saber….and she’s not blind….just misunderstood.

Like I said real life problems that happen ever day.

She is on episode 22.

I came in about 18 1/3 and am trying to catch up.

My stepdaughter on the other hand wants me to just leave.

I told her I pay the bills…so I can stay and do what I want.

Sorry, I gotta go…..

Caleb is about to leave town on a bus and Hanna is deciding if she should stop him..

I hope he stays….the show don’t be the same without him!!!


Prism Break (Motion Shift-End)

This is the end…my only friend…the end…

Not of me…the end installment of “Motion Shift”. For the previous parts, search by using the words in quotations.

Thanks again for reading.

Just Dave turns around and faces the inside of his apartment.

He stands in the entryway, which is 4 feet long and 4 feet wide. White linoleum tile lines the floor in perfect bright squares. The entryway is completely enclosed in thick clear plastic from ceiling to ground. There is a closet door to the left.

This is what he refers to as the decontamination chamber. Before entering the clean room environment, that is his apartment, he must be completely sure his body is bacteria free.

To complete this task he uses the aid of 3 simple items.

The first is a ladies hair straightener….but to him it is not what it seems. He utilizes it as a bacteria wand. He turns it on and waves it around his head and body to neutralize the bacteria and demagnetize its charge.

The second is a dust buster…..but to him it is not what it seems. He utilizes it as a bacteria storage container. He turns it on and sucks the bacteria off his head and clothes.

When this task is completed. He strips off all his clothes and places them into the third item. It is a large yellow storage container….but, once again, to him it is not what it seems. He opens the lid, and places his clothes into the decontamination bin. He closes the lid tight, making sure it clicks on all sides.

He then repeats the process of the first two items on his naked body.

Once he is sure he is clean, he turns to the closet and opens the door. He walks in and closes the door behind him.

The closet has been converted into a wait room. Before entering the apartment, the empty closet, which is void of light and shelves, must be waited in. Once closed into the small space, he waits for a period of 15 seconds. He then reaches for the handle on the opposite wall and enters the apartment, and quickly closes the door behind him.

He enters what would be the dining area. It holds no dining furniture. Just the same brilliant white tile on the floor and white paint on the walls.

He turns a 45 degree turn, takes four paces and turns another 45 degree turn and he is in the main living space. In this space there is a mattress raised up on milk cartons. A small 13 inch black and white tv raised up on 2 milk cartons. And nothing else.

The tv is on and is set to station 1. No reception, just white noise. The volume is high enough to hear but low enough to not disturb the other occupants of the complex. It is always on….always.

He walks six paces to the door at the back of the room. The bedroom. But to him, it is not what it seems.

It is the vault.

The vault is where the prism in the glass box is held.

He looks at the door, places his palm upon the center of it, and feels the hum from inside. It feels like an running electric razor.

He retracts his hand slowly and makes a fist, then releases it and thinks back to how the prism came into his possession……

It’s quite simple, really. He didn’t know he had it in his possession.

Upon being released from jail, he was given back the clothes he had when he entered incarceration 4 months earlier.

-a t shirt
-a faded green army jacket.

He was never in the army. The thick jacket provided warmth.

While en route to his new living assignment at the mental health apartment complex, he began to hear the low buzz.

He heard it all through the orientation and rules and procedures processes that were required for being a resident.

After the paperwork was done and he was brought to his apartment and was left to get situated. The buzz became louder and more distinct.

The sound was coming from the lining of the jacket.

The left inside breast pocket had a hole in the lining. The hole went to the bottom seam of the jacket.

He reached down, inside the lining and grasped the buzzing object. He hum lessened to a whisper and his hand began to warm.

He pulled his hand out of the pocket slowly, opened his palm and there it was.

A brilliant perfect crystal prism.

Being exposed to light, the prism became aglow with activity,

Blurs of colored light began to escape from the object.

Just Dave quickly closed his palm and shoved the prism back into his pocket before the prism break could finalize.

He thought back to his arrest and his time spent in apartment 5, and remembered being in the bedroom closet looking for something. In a shoebox in a corner, was a box made of oak….that hummed. Inside the box was the prism. He remembers taking it and placing it inside his left breast pocket of the army jacket.

Shortly after is when the large men came…….

Just Dave shakes himself back into the now and smiles a victorious smile.

Above the oversized doorknob, is a keypad, which allows entry into the vault.

He punches the code.


Always 2 sixes, never..ever a 5.

The lock disengages.


He opens the door, enters and quickly closes the door.

After 10 seconds, the lock reengages.


He stands in a pitch black room. The only light comes from a table lamp equipped with a 20 watt bulb that has a grey pillow case over it. The prism in the glass box sits on top of the lampshade, which sits in the center of the 13 x 13 foot room. The walls are painted black. The window is covered in tin foil and draped with thick black curtains.

The 20 watt bulb allows the blurs trapped in the prism to move freely around in the encasement of glass but not enough to escape.

Just Dave circles the perimeter of the room and watches as the dancing light follows him as he goes.

He then began to engage in his learned ritual to attempt to close the divide between the real and the blur.

During his 7 year tenure at the apartment complex, he was encouraged to attend meditation classes. He was initially against it, until he learned that meditation aids in being at 1 with the energies of the earth and the energies of the body and mind.

To learn how the blurs steal the energy of the mind he must first learn to master his own energy and gain strength from the power of Mother Earth.

He sat cross legged on the cool tile floor and places his hands, palms up on his knees.

He closed his eyes and began to take slow deep breaths through his nose and exhale slowly through his mouth.

Relax and take in positive energy….release negative.

Focus on what you want to accomplish and nothing else.

The blurs in the prism dance inside the glass and the hum grows louder.

Listen to the noise around you and be at peace with it.

Focus on the brilliant white light that begins to calm you from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes.

Inhale positive energy…..

Exhale negative energy….

Feel your shoulders relax….

Your torso…..

Your pelvic region….

Your thighs…..

The light will encompass your body and bring you into harmony with the energies from the center of the earth…..

The hum abruptly stops, and there is a rumble from the floor. A sound like a piece of notebook paper being slowly ripped from the coiled spine.

Just Dave keeps breathing slowly…in and out…

Unaware that the blurs in the glass box were swimming around the prism like sharks at feeding time.

The rip got louder and the single lamp began to wobble….

Breathe in the positive….

Breathe out the negative…

A crack in the floor began to emerge….

Sending brilliant white light in shards through the seams of the tile.

His heart has slowed to the perfect meditative state. He is at one with all.

The crack begins to widen. The lamp topples over. The glass box crashes to the ground setting the prism and the blurs free.

20130929-134003.jpgJust Dave is shaken from his trance by the sound of the shattered glass box.

He opens his eyes to see a circus of blurs hovering like vultures atop the white light.

He looks down and sees a cylindrical hole widen from the center of the room.

The white light blazing up to the ceiling like a train rampaging through a dark tunnel.

Just Dave gets up and starts backing up to avoid the widening white hole.

The buzz has reached deafening proportions.

As Just Dave backs himself into the corner of the side walls, the hovering blurs stop their circling and bum rush him and attack.

He can’t move. He can’t scream. His eyes get wider as the onslaught begins.

They enter from all angles of his being. Like a swarm of wasps they sting at his aura and begin to drain him.

The hum gets louder. The light gets brighter. The hole gets bigger.

Just Dave gets dimmer.

Before he fades into a blur, the sinkhole undertakes the room. Just Dave falls into the abyss of Mother Earth….circus of blurs in tow.

As he falls, the hum gets calmer, the light fades, the hole stops….holing.

And the world gets quiet.

_______________ says this about sinkholes-

According to the U.S. Geological Survey, human activity that alters ground water can play a major role in sinkhole development. Sub-surface water helps keep surface soil in place, so any artificial alteration of ground water drainage can create problems, as can changes in the land surface such as creation of runoff-storage ponds. The weight of man-made construction can also cause a collapse. Human constructions can also provide clues to the development of sinkholes before they occur. Some of these signs are uneven floors or pavement, cracks in pool decks, a stairstep pattern of cracks in the wall of a building and depressions in an open area such as a yard or park.

In the case of the mental health apartment complex-

Since it opened in 1955, it had needed to be improved and expanded 5 times. The last time being in 2005. The every growing mental diagnosis in our society requires larger faculties for housing.

The redistribution of the water lines, adding new lines and adding new buildings aided in the collapse.

Natural corrosion and the fact that the rock below the surface of the foundation was limestone was also found to be a possible source of the collapse.

Are blurs real? Is our society losing its energy to some other dimension?

The conclusion to that question will be left up to you.

The next time you feel a chill up your spine…..or the hairs on your arms stand up for no reason….or you walk through an unexplained cold spot in your home or community…..

Don’t pay any mind to it….

It’s probably Just Dave.

Time Alone

This is my weekend…..alone.

My wife is out at the lake for a weekend long AA conference.

The kids are at their Dad’s.

I have the house to myself.

I can eat a bunch of crap without the ingredients and sugar content being scolded into me.

I can watch a movie without having to stop it to answer questions about what is going on or what is going to happen.

I can leave the bathroom door open.

Hell, I don’t even have to wear pants if I don’t want to!

I could play rock, paper, scissors with my reflection in the mirror…for hours until someone wins.

My options are limitless.

Ahhh…just the thought of it makes me giddy.

In reality, what have I done with my weekend-

-grocery shopping
-went through my clothes and got rid of stuff

While grocery shopping at “the Walmart” I got to watch a demonstration of some new fancy schmancy food slicer….

I know what you’re thinking-

“Wow! Say it isn’t so!”

Yeah…it’s so.

For that 10 minutes of time I won’t ever be able to get back I got a free peeler.

I guess it’s European or something, it says so on the box..that or it is worth 1 euro.

I did go Goodwill hunting. I need jeans for work. I refuse to pay regular price for jeans that will be used for construction purposes. I go there and pay $5 for a pair. The best thing is the pre existing blood stains and bullet holes are at no extra charge.

Sweet deal!

While I was hunting, I was accosted by a guy who swears he knows me.

He told me that after the last time he spoke with me he got in a dispute with his “baby’s momma” and it took 15 officers of the law to restrain him.

I don’t even think there are 15 officers employed in this county.

I listened, nodded and asked him if he needed a euro peeler.

He looked at me like I was crazy and walked away.

It took 15 Goodwill volunteers to keep me from reminding him who was crazy.


My most excellent idea for the weekend was to give my dogs baths.

I have 4 of them.

-a chihuahua
-a shitzu/weenie dog
-mini sheltie

There is water everywhere.


Worst idea ever.

That’s them post bath, chillin’ on the furniture that had to be covered…

I have until around noon tomorrow to unclog the bathtub drain and get all the paw prints off the tile and wood floors.

Hopefully by that time the house and I won’t smell like wet dog potpourri.

And maybe I can get back to family and work and get some rest.

Never The 5 (Motion Shift 4)

This is a continuation of the story of “Just Dave”. To read the previous installments, please use the search key and type in-

“Motion Shift”

Step, 464, 463, 462, 461, 460….

Step 1, 2, 3, 4, step, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10…

449, 448…..

As Just Dave counted the reverse steps back to his apartment, all except for the 5’s…never…ever the 5’s, his mind wandered to his not so distant past.

On May 5, 2005, he experienced the bottom.

His plan of closing the divide between the world of the living and the prism of the blurs began years earlier.

He had been told during his first institutionalization. that the use of narcotics gave the blurs a tunnel into the mind to steal ones energy, therefore he abstained from drug use…prescribed or not.


In his attempt to gain information and data on the complexities and variances of the blurred dimension, he dismissed that warning and began to experiment in his mid to late teens.

It started out safe enough. A little booze, a few joints….

(324, 323, 322, 321…..)

The ingestion lowered his mental guards.

He even smiled every now and then.

The locks that protected his mind and kept him on guard were left unattended.

A part of his brain that was dormant became alive and craved the openness that the chemicals provided.

It NEEDED more.

Soon, the safety of booze and weed were abandoned for riskier and more potent substances.

Days high, turned to years.

His initial plan of closing the divide, went awry.

He became a man with a extreme mental divide. Chasing shadows.

(249, 248, 247….)

He could no longer distinguish between here and there.

His entire reality became….

A blur.

His use, misuse, and abuse came to a head on 5-5-05.

Following secret messages his mind saw written on concrete walls, he was led to a couple (that only he could see), sitting on a park bench.

They beckoned him over and spoke to him.

“We have been waiting for you, Just Dave….if you agree to come with us, we will lead you to the answers you so desperately seek.”

All Just Dave could do was nod.

And follow.

(111, 110, 109, 108….)

He was led up a flight of stairs and into an open door. Some sort of party was going on.

He glanced at the symbol on the center of the door. One large number was nailed there.


He followed them in and watched them take a seat on the sofa. They smiled giddily and wide at him.

He took a second to glance around the room and then back at the sofa.

Only a few seconds had passed.

The couple had disappeared.


He heard their voices in his head-

“The tools you need to close the divide are here… them. Find them. Take them.”

He wandered the inside of number 5, randomly picking up shiny items and placing them in his pockets.

When he felt satisfied, he turned to leave, and came face to face with a few large men.

Apparently, they did not appreciate his stealing from them. After beating him with many times with many closed 5 finger fists, the cops were called and Just Dave was arrested and charged with felony theft and drug charges.

After a few months in jail, Just Dave was released, placed on probation for a period of 5 years, and ordered to obtain residency at the state operated and maintained mental health apartment complex, which was located one block from the mental hospital.

As long as he stayed clean, sober and other peoples stuff free, he could live there as long as he wanted.

(3, 2, 1)

Those provisions of his freedom started almost 7 years ago.

He took the door key out of his pocket with his right hand and placed it into the lock.

He twisted the handle to the right, opened the door to his apartment and crossed the threshold.

He then closed the door behind him and engaged the lock and left his past outside.

He left the “mistakes” of his past outside.

Inside was where his present and future unfolded.

Inside, was his sanctuary.

The information and data gathered over the years was all inside.

So was the prism in the glass box.



I quit looking at my blog stats about a month ago. Before that, I was quite obsessive about them.

I often check my notifications.

Mainly because, when I slide the screen on my iPhone it bugs me to see numbers hovering above the apps.

-app updates

It drives me insane.

Random numbers that seem to say

“Check me out, coolio….I will just multiply if you don’t…..COME ON CHECK ME OUT!!!”

So I do.

No hovering numbers means all is right in mobileland.

Today I received a notification on my WordPress mobile app dealio.

The likes if which I had never seen before……

I thought to myself-

“Hey self….did someone hack my account and post something worth reading?”

The bottom one said I was averaging 54 views and hour.

Shortly after the top one came in and said I was averaging 150 views an hour.

Gotta be a glitch in the system……


After almost losing my job and my marriage and everything else worthwhile in life, I figured out where the


originated from.

Most of the views came from this post.

During this tools tutorial one of my posts was used as an example.

Hitting the (example here) link from that post directed bloggers to a post on my site.

A post that, incidentally, featured the blog posting tool they were featuring.

No…seriously….that’s what happened.

The post featured, is one I wrote in May of this year.

It has always been one of my favorites.

As of last check it has been viewed


Thanks WordPress for using my story as an “example here”.


A big thanks to the 560 + bloggers who viewed my humble space of words.

It’s good2begone.

Shine on

Motion Shift 3, The Receiver

Just Dave sits on the curb across the street from the big blue box that holds the statement he wrote to his parents. He know the oddly shaped cubed vehicle will be by to empty it’s contents and take them to the evaluation station. There the keepers of the information will decide if his memorandum should be sent as is or returned for disinformation purposes.

He made quite sure that the letter would be sent, as is, by using pen and paper that were blessed with holy water and by wearing powder less latex gloves while he wrote it.

He left off the symbols and hieroglyphs that ward off the blur sensors in hopes it would pass through the aura dome without setting off any sensors.

He sat and waited. Eyes darting back and forth checking both sides of the street for the cube with wheels.

Just Dave and the suitcase that never left his side.

The phone was not used for calls. The mobile mechanisms underneath the receiver were replaced by an AM transistor radio. The radio was not set to any station because that was how the keepers tracked the movements of the citizens. Instead it was set to the white noise in between the stations. Not only did the noise calm him but it kept the blurs from stealing his energy.

In precise 10 minute intervals he would open the case and press in the required code to turn on
the receiver.


He would place the phone receiver to his left ear, always his left ear, and listen for the noise.

If by chance a station would come in, he would reverse the code,


open the box, and dial in pure white noise.

Always two 6’s….never, ever a 5.

He would listen for precisely 33 seconds then hang up the receiver and close the box.

This ritual continued for :40 minutes.

As the cube with wheels pulled up and man in blue shorts got out to empty the contents of the big blue box, Just Dave stood up from the curb, took 2 steps back onto the sidewalk, clenched his fists and held his breathe.

After the man in blue shorts completed his task and returned to his cube to continue on his journey, Just Dave relaxed his fists and let out his breathe. He reached down and picked up the suitcase with his left hand, always his left hand, made a 45 degree turn and began to count and walk the 471 paces back to his apartment where he planned to continue his work.

His current task at hand….

Attempting to close the divide between the world of the living and the prism of the blurs.

471, 470, 469, 468, 467, 466……..

The saga of Just Dave continues. If you would like to read the first 2 installments go to search on my page and type in-

Motion Shift

Thanks for reading.

Motion Shift 2, The Letter

This is part 2 to Motion Shift, for part 1


It has been 18 years since the Jansen’s have seen their son, Michael.

The last they saw of him, was 2 days after his release from the mental hospital at age 12.

They were good parents who had no where else to turn. Their once bright and loving child changed seemingly overnight, and became someone they didn’t even recognize.

For one, he insisted his name was Dave…just Dave.

When they would call for him, he would throw a fit and say,


From there he began to say he saw things…the dead in spirit form, that stole energy from the living.

He would sit in the park and watch people….for hours. He wouldn’t speak…he wouldn’t eat.

He would watch….just watch.

Until he saw someone twitch or swat at a flying insect.

He would then rush over to them and assault them by trying to shake them by the shoulders and say-


The Jansen’s were not well off, but they were not poor either. Just a working class family trying to get by.

In order to avoid charges from the assaulted, they agreed to have him psychologically evaluated at the state run mental health hospital and have him committed for 90 days.

He ran away shortly after his release.

Their 12 year old boy. No money, no identification, no idea what the world was like.

It has been 18 years since then. The Jansen’s never gave up hope.

Their hope was answered by a knock at the door.

The mailman handed them a certified letter addressed to them.

The sender info was in the top left corner. It read-

Dave….just Dave.

They closed the door and returned to the sofa.

They looked at each other with concerned eyes.

Before opening the letter, Mr. Jansen took his wife’s hands in his and said,

“Whatever is that is in this letter….just know that we know he is not dead. I love you.”

The wife wiped tears from her eyes, took a deep breathe, exhaled and opened the letter.

The letter was written in meticulous cursive writing-

Dear Parental Figures,

The calendar has changed many times since I last saw you in person, but know that I have seen you many times. I am far from sight but not far enough away to where I can not watch over you. I have kept you safe from the motion blurs. It has taken me years to learn their purpose. It was through this learning that I am able to use them to watch your progression in life without me.

I am a marked man. The keepers of the blur are continually after me. I came to this realization after many encounters with the state run mental providers. They work for the blurs. They try to keep me from learning their ways.

This world is bugged.

Clouds of vapor are sent through the vents of those places to read my mind. They have radio antenna threaded into the bed sheets to listen to me dream.

This world is not real.

I have tried to return to the place that was once home. Each time I am stopped by the aura dome that surrounds the block.

I continue to circle the perimeter in wide expanses.

It has taken me far and earned me many labels.

The people of this world call me-


I long for a place where I can be Dave.

Just Dave.

This letter was scanned and void of all measures of tracking.

Mrs. Jansen looked at her husband and broke out into tears.

Mr. Jansen just held her and rocked her and tears of his own ran down his cheek.


The Leg up

Physical pain is a good friend of mine. We have been besties since early childhood.

The short list is as follows-

-ran over by a car at 3 years old

-knocked out by a croquet ball at 11

-knocked out by a pitched baseball at 12

-chicken pox….twice

-broken arm and 27 stitches in skull from a falling tree

– fall from the top step of a 12 foot ladder onto concrete while using a running pole saw. (why yes it was the step that states don’t use for standing)

I should probably be more careful.

But some injuries can not be avoided.

Take my most recent.

-bitten by spider.

I don’t know what kind of spider bit me, but I have been expecting my superpowers to become evident sooner or later.

Peter Parker got bit by a spider and for his troubles he got

-spider strength
-spider speed
-wall crawling abilities
-web slinging abilities

So far… For my troubles I have received

-a hole in my leg

I can’t fight crime and attract legions of fans with that.

All I am attracting is grossed out looks from my family and…


That’s not a superpower,

It’s a stupidpower.


The Audacity

I never thought I would ever use that particular “a” word. And yet I just did. It is the only word that fits the story I am about to tell….

My current job site is at a church. We are remodeling it to make it modern.

In the process, it is out with the old (testament) and into the new (King James) version of church type places.

I’m not a churchy guy so that’s my story.


While we were busy tearing out walls, one of the secretaries of the church called me over to talk to a lady.

Here is what the lady said,

“I was wondering if I could have that old water heater in back. My daughter has a baby that needs food and our paperwork for food stamps hasn’t been processed yet.”

I must be hard to ask for help like that. I’m pretty stubborn and don’t know if I could or not.

I told her to let me talk to my boss and if he was ok with it, if so, no problem.

He was more than willing to help and even threw in some old metal vents.

The idea is turn the metal into a scrap yard for cash and


The baby gets fed.

We asked her if she had a truck to take it in. She said yes. We asked her to pull it around back and we would happily load it for her.

Here is where the “a” word comes into play.

She pulls around back with her daughter, who has a freshly inked neck tattoo, by the way, in a 2014 Dodge 1500 extended cab pick up.
Both are on their iPhones in one hand and a cigarette in the other, upon exiting the vehicle.

No wonder the “baby” doesn’t have any food.

Maybe if they didn’t have the chrome bling rims they could beg in front kids r us.


It gets better.

They went on their way and I went back to work.

About an hour later, I had to make a trip to the landfill to empty the construction stuff out of my truck.

I decided to stop to grab a tasty Dr. Pepper to quench my thirst.

Guess what vehicle I saw in the convenience store parking lot……

The same Dodge that trolled us for food for baby.

I go inside and there they are at the register buying a 12 pack of Bud Light and smokes.

I walked up behind them and asked,

“Your baby on some new alcohol and nicotine diet?”


“Just stop. People like you give the needy a bad name. Freaking losers.”

There guy friend that tagged along got in my face and tried to interject.

“Don’t talk to them that…”

I cut him off,

“Like what….like the scum they are..I suppose your the one who sent your Mom and chickie here to find a way to feed YOUR habit. Just shut it and go get high before I call the cops and breakup your little scam for good.”

Not surprisingly the “c” word made him back down and move along.

Apparently, you can put Baby in the corner.